May 2004

HEATHER

I did not stay for Max's birthday.  I knew there would be a grand party at the Temple and that I would not have been welcome.  Max didn't like it, but he knew I was right.  Instead, Max and I celebrated on May 4th, the night before his birthday.  He does not care for modern cake with its heavy icing.  It is too sweet for his tastes.  He requested something simple.  I made baklava (flour, butter, honey, nuts and spices) all foods he would have been familiar with in his time. 

It was a big hit.  The scent of it baking drew him into the kitchen.  I can't imagine much has changed in that sense in more than two millennia.  He wanted a piece before it had even cooled.  I laughed when he blew on it so it wouldn't burn his tongue.  Sometimes, all men are boys whether they are trying or not!

"My mother used to make a dish like this.... how did you know I liked it?"  Just a good guess, I'd teased back, cutting him another generous piece.  But of course, I had cooked for him many times and also made note of what he ordered when we went out.  I knew his preferences- or at least enough of them to make an educated guess.  And there is something very satisfying on a basic level in preparing food for a man.  I enjoyed myself.... and watching him lick the sticky honey residue from his fingers was the best kind of torture.

He enjoyed the treat and the presents.  Forty years of age.  It was much too special a time to let pass without acknowledgement.  We kissed at midnight, passing from the 4th to the 5th... his 'official' birthday.  He drove me to the airport not long after.  I caught a redeye flight home and fell into bed with the taste of honey still on my lips. 

June 2004

HEATHER

By the first of June, I had sold my house and most of my belongings.  Only a small pile remained, boxed up in the center of my living room.  It seemed a bit surreal.  My entire life was there, everything that was of value in a tangible sense.  Old pictures and mementos, mostly.  Twenty-eight years on this earth.  One would think the pile would have been bigger.  The meager little stack was the only thing left in the empty house.  It was in a way both sad and exciting.  The end of one part of my life and the beginning of another.

It was dragonfly season here.  I was sitting out on the back deck watching them... the black and white ones, bright red ones, iridescent blue ones.... all darting about over the lake, chasing each other.  Courting.  Mating in flight.  What must that be like?  Lost in thought, I didn't hear the back door open.  I was watching a small blue damselfly that had landed on my arm.  It tickled.  I laughed... and then I heard Max's deep chuckle.

"So, you charm dragonflies as well as men?"

I jumped up and whirled around.  "Maximus!"  I couldn't keep the pleasure from my voice.

He said: "Are you ready to go?" but his face said he was very pleased by my obvious delight at seeing him once again.  

We embraced warmly and I nodded.  "All ready."  Hand and hand, we went back inside.  "How was Romania?"

An unreadable expression ghosted over his face and then he smiled.  "Surprisingly informative," was all he would say.

"Yeah?"

"Indeed.  I will tell you about it later."  He cocked his head and looked at me.  "Right now, we have a plane to catch."  He loaded my things in the car and then in a surprisingly sweet gesture, plucked a sprig of honeysuckle from the trellis and tucked it into my hair.  "I will miss this place too," he said softly.  "It was here I first met the girl who charmed the boy out of hiding."  He touched my cheek gently.  "But we will find another shady place to pass the hours, papilio.  The world is large and you have only seen a small corner of it."  With a slight little nod he withdrew.  "Take a moment to say a farewell to your old home... I will wait."

I said my goodbyes and when I climbed into the car and the gravel crunched under the tires for the last time, I felt only a wonderful sense of freedom.

Max had a surprise for me at the airport.  He had arranged for two first class tickets.  "I like to have room for my legs," was his excuse... but his bashful look gave him away.

We had an incredibly good time on the flight over.  We were in the last row of seats in the first class cabin.  The two seats in front of us were empty.  It was very private and cozy.  We drank wine and talked.  He laughed at my giddy enjoyment of takeoff.  I so love to fly.  Later, as the cabin lights dimmed and the few people ahead of us began to nod off, we switched from wine to port and I curled up next to him, enjoying the feel of his palm against mine as we talked in low tones.

I teased him about being too serious after the stewardess brought our drinks.  "I am getting better," he said, still stoic as ever... then his tongue peeped out and I knew his smile was not far behind.  "I have even tried to learn to dance...  I shall never be much good, but I try."

"You have?"  I was surprised.  

"Not this modern shaking, like some palsy..."  He pulled a face but his eyes twinkled.  "But I like to hold a woman in my arms and dance to fine music."  That sounded so lovely.  I wondered if he would ever dance with me.  "In my day, only women danced."  He took a sip from his glass and a wry smile turned up the corner of his mouth.  "Unless we were alone and dancing a different kind of dance."

"Maximus!"  I chided playfully.... and then added:  "Well, I was wondering...."  He tsked at me and I giggled.

"Uma tried to teach me once.  She said I had good balance but I mustn't frown when I dance or stick my tongue out the side of my mouth."

I didn't know Uma well, and had only met her once in passing, but I had heard plenty about her crazy antics and propensity for flighty, illogical behavior and madcap schemes.  Teaching Max to dance would definitely qualify.  "That sounds like her.... and like you."  I gave him a pointed glance.  I was well familiar with that trait of his.  His tongue peeped out when he was reading too. 

He chuckled.  "I used to do that when I was a young soldier at sword drill.  Imagine how terrifying that was."  I smiled at the image that brought to mind.  Max at seventeen, swinging a sword with his tongue hanging out in deep concentration. 

"You're lucky you never fell and bit the tip off... your tongue... not the sword," I teased.

"True enough.  Thank the gods for my sense of balance." 

"Oh yes!"  My eyes glittered.  "Imagine how many sad ladies that would have made...."  I nearly clapped my hands with delight when he blushed, but I carried on.  He's fun to tease- but even I know there are limits to what he will accept in public.  "I can't imagine it, facing death at the point of a sword."

He shrugged.  "In truth- we practiced with wooden swords.  It was not as dangerous as you might think... but I still cringed when the centurion would shout:  'Maximus!  Lingua!'"  I laughed.  "Which actually led to another of my nicknames...."

"Oh my!"

His eyes flashed.  "But not one I will share with you, papilio."  Oooooh!  Payback for making him blush.  He knew I was dying to know, just as I knew he would keep his word.  Another 2000 years could pass and I still would be no closer to knowing what it was.

I squeezed his hand.  "You are very good for me, you know?"  My face hurt from smiling.  

He accepted my praise without comment; a typical Maximus trait.  He said instead: "Another new skill I have learnt is how to smoke a cigar.  It is a most enjoyable pursuit... but perhaps you do not approve?"

I shook my head.  "I like the scent of tobacco.  Especially in fine cigar shops."  The sweet smell reminded me of my grandfather and the comfort and joy I always experienced in his home.

"Good."  He nodded curtly, seemingly pleased he would not be chastised for smoking a cigar in my presence.  How men love their vices.  And how this particular man deserved every bit of simple pleasure he could wring from this life.  "So, two signs that I am becoming quite the party beast...." he looked to me.  "Is that what you call such a man?"

I had noticed that as we grew closer, he had become more comfortable asking me about English phrasing.  In the beginning, it seems he hadn't wanted to appear any more foolish in front of me than I had in front of him.  I smiled.  "Party animal."

"Ahh... yes."  He swirled the port in his glass.  "But I draw the line at certain things.  A man must have his pride."

"No palsy dancing?"  I couldn't resist.

He shook his head.  "I still shudder when I think of New York and what they would have had me do.... no doubt with everything recorded on those damn devices they carry."  The swear word made me smile.  Maximus rarely curses.  It is rarer still to hear one in English.  It was a testament to how close we had grown that he would be so free with me, although I suspected the wine might also have had a little something to do with how relaxed he was.    

His words intrigued me- as he knew they would.  Oh boy!  His night on the town with Terry and Dino.  The night they'd flaunted and teased us about for months without ever giving up so much as a single hard fact about what actually happened, aside from the obvious: alcohol was involved- so were some girls... and somewhere over the course of the evening, Max had lost his watch.  (They suggested it was in the questionable embrace of a Nordic blond stripper.)

I considered his words.  "You are not a man to be pushed into anything- and wow, if a record of that night exists... I would keep that a secret if I were you!"

"Ahh... you have loosened my tongue."  He did not seem overly concerned.  He knew I wouldn't spill his secrets.  "But I think if anything, there would only be amusement if it got out."  He straightened up in his chair.  "I kept my dignity.... it was they who lost theirs."

That wasn't the story I'd heard.  "Kept your dignity with a Nordic blond and no watch?"  

He chuckled.  "That is not quite what happened.  I draw the line at public displays.  A dance is one thing- but no one will ever get me up on a stage to sing."

"Oh my!  Karaoke?"  I was overcome with laughter at the mental picture his words conjured.  "I can most definitely see Terry and Dino doing that."  Drunk and singing pathetic off key songs.  Man, what I wouldn't give to have a picture of that. 

"You have no idea what fools they made of themselves."  His bashful grin was back.  "And the magic trick?  I fell for that.  They did it first with his watch..... I can't believe I handed mine over."  He hung his head, grinning and shamefaced.

"Me either."  I snickered.  Heh.  "They are such sneaky bastards."

"They thought it very amusing at the time."

I could only imagine.  "And what did you think?"

"I think I laughed too.... but I did not sing."  His voice was quiet but emphatic.

"Is that another of your customs?  Like dancing- men didn't do it?"  It was always so interesting what little glimpses into his world our conversations sparked.

His distaste was evident.  "Only eunuchs and actors sang.  An actor was a very lowly creature.  Lower than a gladiator... which always amuses me these days." 

Little wonder.  "I'm sure you enjoyed the spectacle of those two fools."  I smiled softly.  "But I'm glad you all got such a night together."  I knew there was some bad blood between Max and Terry over Uma, but all of that had happened before I arrived, and though I'd heard a little about it- the majority of it hadn't been from the three involved.

"It reminded me of nights when I was a young officer, full of bravado... and too drunk to stand by the end."  He chuckled.  "And none of us misbehaved, which was such a sore point that we had to make you all think we had."  Typical.

"A man does have his pride, hey?"  I tossed his words back at him playfully.

"Indeed.... so, we made a pact.  We rationalized - or rather he did - that as we had intended to misbehave, and only the fact that we couldn't stand straight (let alone raise any other part of our anatomy) prevented us from behaving as men should on such a night, then it was only a white lie to keep up our image."

"Geez, that's man-logic if I ever heard it!"

"O'Leary said it was the sort of tactic a negotiator needs to employ, so I should count it as Lesson 1: The Double Bluff."  He smiled.  "It was actually when I realized how much I liked them too- not that I ever said as much.  Why break a habit of a lifetime?"  His dry wit amused me, as always. 

"Dino is such a rotten sneak!  I knew there was a reason I liked him."  We laughed.  "And I love that you break that habit of stoicism with me now and again."

"I think I have more than broken it tonight, but I know that you will guard my confidences."  His eyes were warm and sure.

I nodded.  "Of course."

He stroked my fingers, suddenly a bit more serious.  "I cannot pretend I have never told anyone some of the things I have shared with you, but you are the guardian of at least two of my closest kept secrets.... Flavia and the night on the town."  His eyes sparkled.  "Among others."

"Indeed."  I thought of our time spent among the oak trees on his property and smiled inwardly.  "Well, as far as secrets go, those are two very good ones."  The ones he hadn't mentioned were even better.

"Do you realize what is forfeit if my partners in crime find out I revealed the true nature of that night?"

"Oh yeah."  Dino and Terry would never let him live it down.  "The rights to join the next night out."

"And my testicles pinned to the wall in the office and used as a dartboard.  I think that was Thorne's suggestion."

That sounded like Terry.  I wondered what Max's suggestion had been.  "I'd watch him!  He plays dirty... and he's already got one photo of you in his office with a dart in it." 

Max grinned.  "I play dirtier.... but I promise I'd shake his hand afterwards."  He was very smug.  "That is a fight I would not back away from... but merely for honorable reasons."

Pfffffff.  "Merely honorable reasons?"  I raised my eyebrows.  The look he gave me said:  Well, of course.  I poked him.  "Come on!  There is no part of you that wishes to land a few blows for a less than honorable reason?"

A wry grin touched his mouth.  "Well, let us say there was a time when I would not have been too worried if my blows struck lower than was seemly."  Again, a glimpse at Max's dry humor. 

I snorted.  "That sounds more likely."

He just shook his head.  "Sometimes I fear women never really understand how simple things are to men."

"So tell me... help me understand it."  I loved to listen to men talk about the how and why of being men.  Their thinking can be so foreign!

"We prefer to settle things quickly.  You annoy me.  I hit you.  We pick each other up and share a jug of wine.... but women intervene... pull us apart.... so we just glare and fester."

I rolled my eyes.  "You make it sound very simple, but when it is a matter of men we love, it's hard to stand by and see them hurt...."  He was looking at me with a curious expression.  "What?"

"I was joking," he said with a chuckle when I swatted his arm.  "But there is an element of truth.... and perhaps one day you can make him see how highly I regard him as a man, even if there are times when I would happily shut his mouth for him."

I sipped my drink.  "Well, that is the way of men the world over.  Especially men like you... but I will try."

He gave me an inquisitive look.  "What do women do in situations like this?  They don't fight or posture."

"No, not really.  They are more covert.  They talk."

"Use words."  His look of distaste was back.

"Yes.  What usually happens is one day you find that you have been ejected from the circle of friends."  I could still remember the first time it had happened to me.  Seventh grade.  Cindy Warner.  I'd given her half my lunch nearly every day for a year because she never had one and then when our Social Studies teacher made me project leader for some stupid assignment, she'd turned the rest of the circle of friends against me because she'd wanted to be in charge.  God!  Women.  We really can be such bitches.  I ate lunch alone for the rest of the year.  It was an experience I never forgot.  "One day you're in... the next, you're an outcast." 

"How unpleasant."

"It is, since there is rarely a chance for recourse."  

Max nodded.  "So, it is a game of politics.  One wins over the group."

It was interesting watching him trying to wrap his mind around the female dynamic.  "Yes, exactly.  And it is difficult, especially when the one who wins is not in the right."

He waved his hand dismissively.  "Men would have no patience with that.  It is interesting, though- the differences.  Which way is better?  Or are some problems always impossible to resolve?"

"I think each way is best for each sex.  We are not the same, nor do we think the same... besides, I couldn't hit a woman and then drink with her afterwards." 

Max's laughter was rich and warm.  "I had forgotten one important ingredient... the very idea of two women behaving that way.... it is absurd."  He laughed harder.

"As absurd as you spending hours talking to every person, convincing them to your side."  His eyes were wet with laughter.

"Or starting to alienate others by tittle tattle to win them over."  He adopted the posture and voice of Bud.  "What the fuck?  Who gives a fucking shit?"

"Somehow, I think you'd get a lot of that, no matter which one you talked to." I laughed until I cried, imagining that and Max laughed too, more jovially than I think I'd ever seen before. 

He held up his hands.  "Please- I am not laughing at you... just the picture you allowed me to see."  His laughter quieted but his eyes still danced.  "You women seem to stay close despite all these stresses."

I nodded.  "Mostly, yes.  We're less solitary than men.  We usually function better within a network.  Hold each other up, whereas men tend to do better when they strike out on their own." 

He gave me a look.  "I suspect we would be shocked if we knew the extent of what you discussed about us."  He had no idea!  "Men talk crudely about women, but never say what is on their mind.  That would be an admission of weakness."

"Women do tend to share deeper things, I think... or at least more revealing things... but most of us don't ever tell it all."  Except for a few here and there who have a tendency to overshare.  I'd had this one college roommate who'd tell me things I don't think even her gynecologist would have wanted to know.

"Who does tell it all?  Do we even know it all in our own hearts?"

He seemed particularly interested in that.  "I certainly don't."  He took my hand again.  "But the heart is a curious organ.  It has a way of surprising us." 

"If I understood myself, I might have a chance with others... but until then, I watch and learn..."  Max sighed softly.  "I do try, Heather... I try to change..."  He fell silent.

His heartfelt confession touched me deeply.  He was such a beautiful man.  "That reminds me of something the Creator said once.  That you must learn to walk with your own heart.... if you don't, how can you expect someone else to?"

"Wise words."  He tucked me closer into his side.  "At the end of the day, we must live with ourselves.  All else passes away.  No one can really rely on another always being there." 

Meus bellus Maximus.  My heart ached for what he had lost.  His lessons had all been so harsh.  "You're right."  Even if I had wanted to cry otherwise, what he said was true. 

"But a sad truth exists in that too.  Sometimes we learn more about our true selves when our circumstances change, however painful our lives might be as a result...."  He breathed in deeply, and I knew he was thinking of the past.  I thought of the present.  "... but at what a cost to those whom we love!"

"Sometimes the greatest cost," I whispered softly.

Maximus turned to me.  "This has been a good talk.  As good as laughing, dancing or smoking a cigar.  Better even."

"High praise indeed," I teased.  "You sounded so very fond of those cigars...."

He wagged his finger.  "But do not expect miracles, papilio.  I will never sing- for you or any woman."

We laughed together and the conversation wound down.  It was late and the wine had made me sleepy.  Max kissed me softly and covered me with a blanket, putting his arm around me protectively, wordlessly offering me his shoulder.  I rested my head against his warm bulk and he spoke sweet words to me in Latin.  My eyes drifted shut to the sound of his smoky voice telling me to rest easy, that he would watch over me while I slept. 

Italy was gorgeous.  Even more beautiful than I had imagined.  I fell in love instantly... with the feel of it, the climate, the people, the architecture, the slower pace of life.... just everything.  Maximus admitted it was his preference as well.  It was much closer to the way things had been in his time than the garish and hurried life found in most cities in America....  McDonald's on every corner... Wal-Mart superstores and rampant consumerism.  In Italy, things seemed to take longer and were worth more because the journey was as important as the destination.  It was a different sort of peace and I liked it very much.

We started in Naples and moved outwards to Salerno and Caserta, spending a week just driving around and stopping whenever the mood struck.  The coast was lovely but I liked the smaller more inland towns better.  They were less touristy, but many still had large artistic communities... painters and potters, craftsmen and glassblowers.  It was my plan to find a simple little job somewhere and spend the rest of my time painting.  The feel of the place was certainly inspiring.  Part of me just wanted to take the first suitable apartment and break out my paints.

Maximus was having none of it.  I must have a proper home, he'd said.  I conceded the point and told him exactly what I wanted to look for.  A small two room apartment, preferably not on the ground floor.... he listened to me tick off my list and shook his head.  He is such a man.  He made me expand my narrow vision and look at both the very bottom and very top of my price range.  He said to appreciate what I finally settled on, I must be aware of all my options.  I didn't really want to look at hovels or houses- just tiny apartments, but Maximus held firm- and nobody moves the Commander of the Armies of the North once he had set his mind to something.

So, we looked at a few grand homes and a few less than favorable places.  I was glad for his protection.  With him at my side, I never felt afraid, even when we walked down the darkest of narrow alleys.  And he was right.  I did appreciate the neat little apartments we looked at after I'd seen the junky ones.  A week into looking, we found it.  The perfect apartment.  I adored it from the cracking plaster walls to the hardwood floors to the quaint cobbled alley below.  It even had flowerboxes under the windows.  I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.  Max just shook his head and told me we would come back to it if the last property he wanted me to look at didn't suit.

I was annoyed with him but did as he asked.  I wanted to move in and was already envisioning what color I wanted to paint the bedroom walls.... but I also did enjoy spending time with Max exploring the city, getting turned around in the back streets, eating at little hole in the wall places and just talking as we meandered on foot or by car.

The last place he wanted me to see was a small home on the hills above the city.  My heart was set on the apartment, but it still sounded like a fun adventure.  Buildings and cobbles gave way to farmland and vineyards.  We turned into a gravel drive and stopped outside a home that was beautiful, if not in a bit of disrepair.  It was as close to my dream home as I think I'd ever find without actually having one custom built.  Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, one living area, and a large kitchen- all arranged in a square with a large courtyard in the middle.  I'd forgotten he'd once asked me about my idea of a dream house.  It was so very sweet that he'd remembered.     

I could envision myself there, painting in the courtyard... working in the garden.  It was overgrown and needed to be replanted.  I could see an outdoor shower in my mind's eye.... like a private retreat from the world.  This modest Tuscan villa was slightly beyond my upper price limit, but that's not what made me decide against it.  It was that I wouldn't have anyone to share it with.  An apartment in the heart of the city was different.  This was a place meant for two, not a woman alone.  I would be lonely here; a bit like sitting in a loveseat all alone.  A single chair was a much better choice for me.   

Max watched me intently as I wandered from room to room and then back outside to the courtyard.  I hoped my longing wasn't evident on my face.  It was hard to let this one go.  I meandered through the small orchard outside and came back to find Maximus on his cell phone.  It was an image that always made me laugh.  It seemed so strange.  A sword I could picture- but modern technology?  I just shook my head and smiled at him as he hung up.

"It's lovely Max, but I would rather have the apartment."

"You are certain?"  I nodded.  "It is just as well.  I rang the agent.  This property is no longer for sale." 

"Typical!"  It had happened a few times to us already.  The world moved slower here- and that included removing properties from the listing that had already been sold.  "Will you arrange the apartment for me?"  He knows I hate business dealings- to say nothing of the fact my Italian is complete crap.  I hung on his arm and he chuckled at my excitement. 

"Certe."  He shook his head in amusement at my happy whoop.  I could hardly wait.   

He sent for my things that had been in storage while we traveled and he helped me move in the following week.  I was so excited, just wanting to get what little I had unpacked.  I had to buy a bed and some other furniture.  I shopped but did not inflict that torture on Max, though he often shadowed me through the marketplace.  It made me feel very safe, gave me confidence to explore my new home. 

That afternoon when I came back, Max was waiting with my palla and the keys to the car he'd rented.  "Got a hot date?" I teased. 

He tsked at me.  "I will be returning to work soon, papilio.  My leave is almost over.... I have just a few days left."  His voice softened.  "I worry about you here.  You still get lost almost every day."  I blushed.  That was true.  My sense of direction is beyond pathetic.  "I thought it might help you to see the city from the hills above.  I will give you a lesson."  I groaned inwardly.  Of course he knew his way around after the first day.  He spent three hours walking around while I painted and now he never got lost, whereas I got turned around nearly every time I left the place.  I thought it was very sweet- and I knew it would put his mind at rest, though I had doubts any of what he said would actually make a lick of sense to me.  I am completely and totally directionally challenged.

We drove up into the hills until we were in the farmland once again.  The city spread out below us and Max pulled the car off the road.  We got out and I sat on the low stone wall while he stood at my back and pointed out the various landmarks below, things to help me orient myself in the city if I got lost.  He knows me so well.  He didn't give me place names.  He would say- that one there, with the blue roof.... or the one with the windows of leaded glass that you like so much....  He gave me ones I would remember.  What a precious gift.  He gave me security, built my confidence for when I would have to navigate my way alone.  I squeezed his hand and felt him smile.      

The lesson ended all too quickly.  The feel of his wide chest at my back and his breath on my neck had made my knees weak.  I stood and he lifted his arms to help me off the wall.  I took his hand- and that's when I saw it.  Across the road was a cornfield.  My heart turned over in my chest.  I stepped down and tugged at his hand, scared and excited and knowing in my heart the moment was right.  I tugged again and his eyes flicked to the distance, trying to figure out why I was pulling him away from the view and the car.  His breath caught when he saw the corn.

"Come on, bellus....."  Whispered words.  I was shaking.  Overwhelmed.

He drew up short, searching my face.  "You want this?"  I nodded and saw his stoic reserve crumble.  He grasped my hand and we ran into the field, breathless and giddy, just a boy and his girl, drunk on the heady knowledge they are about to lose their innocence in the summer corn. 

He kissed me, drawing me to him with a mastery no boy could ever have ever possessed- and yet, his hands trembled.  The world spun.  The wind blew.  Corn leaves and flowers brushed against us, tickling our sensitive skin and speckling us with bright yellow pollen.  I received the thrust of his tongue as I would soon receive his more intimate thrust, with joyous abandon.  My blood rushed, whispering to me of that timeless desire that grips all women in such moments.  I wanted to lay with him. 

His blood spoke too, sensitizing him to my desire, waking in him that urge to cover and thrust.  My body heard it and answered, softening against his, somehow becoming the perfect feminine counterpart for the raw edge of his elemental masculinity.  He became longer, thicker, harder... I became wetter, softer, more receptive.  We both became more desperate to join our bodies.   

His strong hands molded me to his hard planes, cupping the curve of my butt and pulling me tight against his groin, rocking against me without shame in the effort to assuage his intense arousal.  I could only cling to him and let the wild storm rising between us rage.  He suckled a wet bite against my throat.  My hands fluttered, pulling at his clothes.  Neither of us were gentle, lost as we were in the suddenness of euphoric passion.  We sank together into the soft black earth.  

Thick fingers fumbled with the tiny pearl buttons on my blouse and I heard his soft growl of frustration a moment before I felt him grasp both sides and pull.  It rent easily under his formidable strength.  I felt the golden warmth of the afternoon sun on my bare breasts and then the hotter warmth of his mouth.  A moist open-mouthed kiss slid wetly across my chest, from one nipple to the other, before he trailed lower.  He nipped at me and I felt him smile against my skin when I moaned and reached for him.  His body shook as he pushed my skirt up. 

In one last desperate flurry to feel each other's most intimate embrace, I ripped open his jeans and he pulled aside my panties to swipe his tip through the wet petals of my sex before fitting just the thick head inside me.  The earth felt warm and soft below me.  He felt hot and hard above me.  Our eyes met and for one beautiful moment, we hung suspended there, on the crest of something incredible.  His eyes were clear and light, glittering like the sea again the darker backdrop of his tanned skin. 

We strained to hold back the rising tide.  I struggled to accommodate him.  He struggled against the desire to rut and thrust.  It was a moment of sweet innocence, shared and lost... given away to honor the spirit of a girl who had never known the joy of receiving her lover's body in the shadow of the summer corn.

"Come inside, meus bellus Maximus," I whispered, reaching to draw him close and lifting my legs in a timeless gesture of female invitation.  He sank into me fully with a soft guttural sound.  I sank deeper into the earth's gentle embrace.  He covered me and rode with abandon, as the boy would have done so long ago.  He moved with the sure knowledge of a man too, deep driving thrusts that left me breathless, gasping and mewling softly with pleasure.  I could only wrap my arms around him and let him fly.  I clung, weak and trembling to his powerful body as his rhythm grew erratic and his breath came in rough pants against my neck.  His heart beat wildly against mine.  My world spiraled tighter, until my entire focus was on the beautiful man moving in my arms. 

I came with the sun on my face and his body buried inside mine.  Until that moment, I had never understood why the French call it la petite mort... but in that moment it all became clear as he brought me to the very gates of his Elysium and then followed me through as his release surged though him.  He pushed deep and I held his strong body as he shuddered out his coming.  I had cried out in joyous abandon.  He made only the softest sound as he gave up his strength in streams of starlight. 

I don't remember falling back to earth.  I only remember opening my eyes and seeing him slumped next to me, sweaty and disheveled... with a wide silly grin on his face.  He was a sight- his chest heaving, his spent penis starting to soften against a nest of dark wet hair.  His eyes were closed and his face was turned up to the sun.  His hand held mine tightly- but it was the smile I remember most.  He looked happy.  Free.  

His hand tightened on mine.  I could feel the gritty earth between our palms.  He chuckled and pulled me close but did not open his eyes.  I plucked a corn flower and tickled his face.  With a happy roar, he rolled me under him and tickled me half-heartedly for a moment before simply resting his head on my naked breast.  He gave a breath of whispered Latin directly to my heart and then relaxed against me utterly.  I held him there, and for the first time in my life, felt a peace so deep it defied words. 

Timeless.

Casual with this man was an impossibility.  I'd known that from the beginning.  It was a bit like playing on a highway- to the left or the right and you're fine.  Something in the middle is going to cause some serious damage.  It had to be all or nothing.  The only problem is, when he asked for this day in the corn, I'd been unable to say no.  Now I was more than his friend but less than his woman... and I knew watching him go was going to break my heart. 

And still, I took my day in the sun.  The cost was immaterial.  Maximus deserved far more than I could ever give.  Our time was precious and slipping away so fast.  I did not intend to waste so much as a single moment of it feeling sad.  There was time enough for that later.  We smiled and laughed.  He put a finger to my lips and listened intently and then quickly pulled me to my feet.  I felt a wet gush of spent semen trickle from me and I shivered at the lingering sensation a man's body leaves behind in a woman's.

"Maximus?" 

"Make haste, papilio!"

He stuffed his spent cock back in his pants and grinned at me as he zipped quickly, instinctively taking care to guard his most tender flesh from the sharp metal teeth even as he hurried.  I pulled away my torn panties and tied the two tails of my shirt together below my breasts, trying to minimize the damage.  Black soil was ground into his knees.  I'm sure my back was similarly adorned.  Brilliant smears of yellow pollen covered us both.  We looked at each other and laughed- and then I heard it.  A farmer's angry shouts.  So, that is what roused the playful boy from his languid post coital bliss.   

Maximus reached for my hand and we ran, breathless and laughing, as we were chased from the field.  It seemed so funny to me.  The man who'd conquered the last of the barbaric Germanic tribes and brought peace to Rome- reduced to running from a scythe-wielding farmer in a dirty sleeveless shirt.  I had a stitch in my side by the time we reached the car, more from laughing than running.  He let go of my hand to hurriedly pat down his pockets as we approached the car.

"Fute!"

I giggled and tossed him the keys.  He grinned.  Gravel spun.  I laughed until I cried.  "That close enough to how it would have been to satisfy your requirements, bellus?" I teased. 

He laughed harder, wiping at his own eyes before he cupped a hand around his scrotum protectively.  "Certe!"  He shook his head.  "Any closer and I'd have been the boy in fact as well as deed."  Our laughter faded away to something softer and more warm.  He cocked his head and looked at me, tongue peeping out.  I could see his nostrils flare.

I smelled of sex and of him.  My thighs were slick with the proof of our passion and his release.  The scent that rose from between them was heady and intoxicating.  It felt like a brand.  A mark no amount of water could ever wash away.  I had taken him into my body and in doing so, he'd carved out a place that was his alone.  And would be for all time.  I looked over at him and smiled as he twined his fingers with mine.   

He did not let go of my hand until we were falling in the door of my small apartment.  We showered leisurely and then made love again. This time, it was the lovemaking of adults.  A man and a woman coming together in passion that is savored slowly with all our senses.  I learned his body and gave up the secrets of my own.  We explored each other with hands and mouths.  I suckled his beautiful penis until he cried out to his Gods.  He lapped at my wet folds until I touched his Elysium once more. 

I sat on him and rode him slowly, peppering his face with kisses and running my hands over his thick muscles and into the soft nest of musky hair under his arm.  He took me from behind, sweeping his hands over my back possessively as he pumped.  We finished on the bed, sweaty and breathless with a pillow under my hips and my legs over his shoulders so I would know what it was like to feel his full possession of my body.  His hips juddered against my groin as I contracted around him, dying with his name on my lips.  He made no sound but I felt his gasp against my skin as his body shook.  He pressed his lips to my throat and I felt the jerking rush of his orgasm fill me with a wet heat. 

I smiled.  He slumped against me, suddenly weak where he had been so strong.  My muscles protested as he slowly lowered my legs and withdrew.  I winced.  I thought he might apologize.  He did not.  Instead, he watched his semen trickle from me with a smile and put his hand between my legs, curling around me as sleep finally took us both.

He woke me shortly before sunset.  I groaned into the covers.  "Not again, Max.... My God!"  I giggled.  "I know I teased you about being the boy with me.... but I never imagined this....  How many times can you get it up in one day?" I pretended outrage, but I'd have welcomed his touch no matter how sore I was. 

He tsked at me and then chuckled.  "As many times as is required."  His eyes twinkled.  "But experience has taught me it is not the number of times you draw your blade that is impressive- so much as it is how you wield it once you are engaged."  He kissed my naked shoulder and stroked my hair.  "And there lies the real chasm between man and boy."

His palm was warm on my back and I turned over, lightly cupping the impressive length of said blade in my grasp.  I knew he would be sore too, if the feeling between my legs was anything to judge by.  He covered my hand with his and kissed me lightly.  I sighed contentedly and smiled into his mouth, ready to drift back to sleep, but he held firm.

"It is time to rise.  I wish for you to join me."  The tone in his voice cut through my sleepy fog.  He was insistent- but there was something else twined with it.  In another man I might have said self doubt or perhaps nervousness.... but this was Maximus.  He is the most self assured man I have ever met.  I just assumed I was misreading him and did as he asked, dressing in the simple clothes he handed me. 

I pulled on the thin tank top and skirt, reaching for my denim jacket while he thrust his legs into a fresh pair of jeans.  I never get tired of watching that.  Such a simple thing, dressing.  And so intimate.  He caught me looking and smiled; leaving the front his pants open while he pulled on a shirt.  That made me smile.  Maximus rarely boasts with words, but for all his stoicism, even he isn't above flaunting his body before an appreciative lover.  I bent to slip on my sandals and he came up behind me, pressing himself to my back and rubbing his hands over the swell of my hips with an easy familiarity, now that he knew my body as well as my spirit.  I have come to understand Maximus is a man who appreciates a woman's softness, no doubt because he seeks the feminine counterpart to his intense masculinity.

He picked up the car keys and our 'everything bag' before leading me out with a strong hand at the small of my back.  "Where are we going, Max?"

His answer was low and gruff.  "To say goodbye."  My heart fell.  I knew that we would be saying goodbye soon, but I hadn't expected it to happen that night.  I tried to keep my sadness from my face and simply put my hand in his, trusting him to lead us where we needed to go.  Where he needed us to go.

We didn't speak in the car.  He seemed lost in thought, somewhere very far away.  I was surprised when he turned off the headlights and we pulled off the road by the cornfield we'd been chased out of earlier in the day.  Twilight was fading to dusk.  It would be dark soon.  I wanted to ask him why we were here, but something in his mood stopped me.  He seemed so solemn.  Almost reverent.  This time we didn't dash madly, but walked slowly, with purpose into the corn.  He found the soft depression our bodies had made in the earth almost without effort. 

I felt his hand squeeze mine and then he let go to remove the knife from the satchel I carried.  "Kneel with me here," he said softly.  Not a whisper- but close.  In silence, I watched him dig a hole with the blade.  When he was finished, our eyes met and he held out his large hands.  "The book, papilio."  I suddenly understood what he was doing and my eyes filled with tears.  I handed him the journal that contained the record he'd asked me to keep of his private boyhood memories.  He wasn't saying goodbye to me.  He was saying goodbye to her.  To Flavia. 

Pulling a silver lighter from his pocket, he tore the pages out one by one and burned them, covering over the ashes with soft dark earth when the last of the pages had been reduced to dust and air.  It was a profoundly moving moment to share; the sunset of his time with Flavia.

He touched the earth as reverently as he'd once touched the wheat and then he took my hand in his.  "She is resting now...."  He looked away and then swallowed before looking back.  "....and I have my own girl."  For a moment, his bashful look ghosted over his face before he retreated back behind his mask of stoicism, something he only did with me in private now when he was feeling uncomfortable or vulnerable.  "I am a man now and I need a woman."  I suddenly realized he was holding his breath and my heart began to race.  "Would you be that woman?"          

I was simply stunned.  I had never in my wildest dreams imagined he'd want that with me.  I opened my mouth to say something- I'm not exactly sure what- but he shook his head.

"Do not answer yet.  There is more I wish to show you."  

I could only nod mutely as he pulled me to my feet and gently led me back to the car.  We drove in silence.  My hands shook, and as I watched him, I realized he was nervous too- fidgeting where he is usually so still and calm.  Stroking his beard, blinking where his stare is typically unwavering.  I suddenly realized how difficult this must have been for him.  Putting himself out there again, risking his heart- and his pride.  That he would take such a chance after being so deeply wounded was a testament to the true breadth of his courage and strength.  I have never known a braver man. 

Nor a man more deserving of love.

MAXIMUS

The drive was interminable.  I have always been better with swords than emotions.  Facing the tigers or an armed opponent would have been easier than this.  The deepest cuts I have suffered have always been at the hands of women, perhaps because they are able to touch my heart where the others touch only flesh and sinew.

In truth, I was nervous.  Unsure.  It is not a feeling I am altogether familiar with.  I am rarely uncertain once I have decided on a suitable course of action.  I have prayed many times for solace and wisdom, asking the Gods to reveal to me their desire for my future, to come to me in my dreams.  And I have dreamed.  I know what I want.  I have known for many months now... and yet I still find these last few steps of the journey to be the hardest. 

In matters of men and horses, I see the choices easily.  A battlefield is like a chessboard- I know the strengths and weaknesses of the players.  I know the game.  I know what moves to make and I make them.  It is that simple.  Matters of the heart are more confusing, I suspect because I am more familiar plunging my sword into that curious organ than caring for it tenderly- to say nothing of exposing my own to yet another bloodless mortal blow.  Even wounds of the flesh are left behind at the gates of Elysium.  Wounds of the heart are eternal.  I carry them still. 

Change is never easy.  Even in my world, I struggled with women.  I was lover- husband- father.... and yet, somehow, certain women still had the power to make me feel the boy again, clumsy and awkward with all but a sword.  Here, it is harder.  I have watched and learned- but the nuance of culture and language still defeats me at times.  And yet something in Heather's anima spoke to me.  Since our first meeting there have been many changes in my life and I have carefully shaped our time together toward one end, hoping that I have correctly read her responses.  I believe that I have, but that does not make me feel less vulnerable now. 

She is quiet, watching me with wide eyes.  I wonder what she would think if she knew that under my stoic mantle, I felt as uncertain as she looked.  I am aware she wished to limit the damage I might do to her heart by remaining my friend rather than take a place in my life as a casual lover, just as I am aware I would not have led us here without intending to offer more.  I knew what it cost her to help me find peace for myself and for Flavia's memory.  That she would give of herself so freely, so selflessly, believing that I would walk away after settling her here.... It reinforced that I had indeed made the correct decision.  She stood firm, willingly accepting a blade in the breast for me.  Can I not expose myself to the same risk?

My life has fallen into place in these last months.  Romania was the final piece for me.  It was in my mind then to ask Heather to be my woman, but I was not yet free.  I had to know Uma would be watched over by someone who would protect her as well as I could.  She has found that in Jack.  He is a good man.  I trust him.  I respect him.  It is a pity he chose the Navy over service in the Army- we lost a good man, but I will never say so.  Still, I imagine the pair of them will be good for each other and that they will have many adventures at sea, laughing and loving their way around the world.  

My final confirmation of that came not long ago.  A single postcard with a picture of the sparkling Mediterranean waters on the front and Uma's untidy feminine scrawl on the back.

Max,

Don't wish you were here!  One hairy arse is quite enough.

Love,

Umaxxx 

Her irreverence always makes me smile, especially when she's not around to see how much I enjoy it.  A few simple lines from her were enough.  She would never risk revealing her private thoughts in such a public correspondence, but I got her meaning well enough.  She was with him.  And she was happy.  That was all I needed to know.  I cannot describe the feeling of peace that flooded me as I read her words.  She was settled and I was finally free... and if the Gods deign to favor me tonight, perhaps I am on the verge of being settled myself. 

I pulled into the gravel drive and heard Heather's soft gasp before I turned off the headlights.  It was the last house we had looked at together.  The one she favored.  The one that was no longer on the market... because I'd purchased it.  I took her hand and pressed the keys into her palm as I led her to the door.  Her hands were shaking.  I prayed that my tongue would not stumble and paint me the awkward boy before her now when I wished to appear the unshakable man.  I think I mostly succeeded.

"Oh, Maxime...."

I shook my head and touched her lips softly.  "Let me speak."  She nodded.  "I am a straight talking man.  I have never learned how to hide behind a façade."  Even now, I knew signs of my nervousness were shining through.  It has always been so with the women dear to my heart.  "In my life I have loved very few women.  Two I lost.  Two I walked away from so that they could be free."  I met her eyes.  "Now I have another."

Her tears spilled over and she unconsciously touched her heart.  I felt the same glow.  "You won't lose me," she whispered. 

I struggled to keep to the speech in my head, knowing if I gave in to the feelings swirling in me that I would crumble and never get out the rest.  "I will try not to use clever talk or to make false declarations.  It is not my way."  There is no honor in it. 

She squeezed my hands and nodded.  "Nor mine."

"I do not give my heart quickly..... but when I do, it is forever."  I brushed the tears from her face and felt my own eyes grow wet.  "My request is this.  I have bought this house for you.  You have little means and I have more than I need."  I had not touched the Family coffers for years, but my new job was incredibly lucrative.  I wanted for nothing, save a woman of my own.  "But more than that- I want to share my life with you here in this beautiful place."

I felt my confidence in my decision grow as I saw how deeply my words moved her, but I was still surprised by her response.  "But I'm not-" she stopped abruptly and then continued on.  "I'm not the one familiar with your culture and language... I'm not the stuff of mistresses... I've never known you in another life...."

"How refreshing."  Her eyes widened.  "There is much to be said for the joy of discovery, papilio.  Your curiosity allows me to share with you my culture in a way that makes it come alive for me- but also teaches me about this modern world."  I kissed her softly.  "This is not about pleasures of the flesh- although if it your wish, I yearn for those."  She flushed softly.  We had shared our hearts for months, but had only just tasted carnal pleasure.  "But this is about the meeting of two minds and the fusing of two hearts.  Stay with me here and I will try to never let you down."  I tipped her face to mine.  "Do you believe in me when I say this?"

"Yes."  She nodded.  "I want that with all my heart, Maximus.  To make each other smile... to be the person to drink tea with you in the morning and to walk the floors with you at night when you're distraught...." her blush deepened.  "... and to make love in the long hours between..."

Her answer pleased me.  Deeply.  But there was more I had to say.  I touched her face gently.  "I cannot say that other women do not have a place in my heart.  They were real and true loves to me... but I promise you this- that of all women, you will be the first."  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "Is that enough?"

"More than enough, meus bellus Maximus."  

I just shook my head in wonder and touched my forehead to hers, feeling both the wild exhilaration of love and the soul deep peace a man like me feels when he knows his hearth and home is tended by his woman, and that no matter where he is in the world, someone is waiting joyously for his return.  She pressed the keys back into my palm and whispered, Our home, Maximus. 

"Our home."  I unlocked the door and led my woman inside, closing it solidly after our passing.  And what happened after that is not your concern.     

I have been called many things in my life....  Slave.  Spaniard.  General.  Bellus.  But my name is Maximus Decimus Meridius.  And I have had my revenge.  That life is over.  Now, in the next, I am finally free to be my own man.  I have done my duty and now it is time for me to make my own path.  And it is with the knowledge the Gods still favor me- for they have granted me the one thing I have always longed for.

My name is Maximus. 

And I am not alone.